


Don't Forget The Sun

by badluckvixen13 (alteringviews)



Category: True Blood
Genre: Blood Drinking, Family Drama, Forgiveness, Lafayette is a Medium or whatever they call it in the show, M/M, Sexy Times, funking out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-14 01:51:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11772996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alteringviews/pseuds/badluckvixen13
Summary: James takes a visit home and realizes that he has been a total ass to Lafayette.Of course, our favorite hippy has to make it up to him.





	Don't Forget The Sun

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly just needed some James and Lafayette smexy times.

It’s odd, he thinks. A soda-skin paradox as he walks down the street, like a memory seen through smoke and mirror but in high-definition. He remembers this, though this body. This walking bag of blood doesn’t. To the core of him, there’s magic tingling with human memories that longed to be forgotten: hope, dreams, mercy, and despair.

He’s walking in sunlight, yet that isn’t what is so strange to him. It’s the where and how of where he is walking. Through a town he hadn’t visited in decades. There’s a chill in the air, customary of this time of year, for this small lakeside town where nothing ever happened besides a chaplain, a notification officer, and a procession of bodies. He can hear the sound of the water hitting the old docks, the smell of the wharf and the sound of everyone going about their day.

It isn’t a long walk from the pier to the small section of town where that house still sat. It had been old when he’d lived in it, growing older when he’d been nearly killed in the street. He knew, just from feeling, that his parents still lived there. His mother was probably making some sort of chowder, muttering in that soft way about his sister’s children. One of them was probably off to college, the younger still in highschool or maybe she had another, a smaller one. He really didn’t know, but he knew from the soda-fizz on his skin that she would be muttering on about them while his father sat in the living room only half listening, maybe staring through the dead years behind him.

Perhaps, sometimes, probably during the commercial breaks, he replied. Maybe sometime he thought of James, but none of that mattered because when he stopped in front of the house and looked up at it. His mother wasn’t there. The car was gone, but inside he could hear a single heartbeat.

His father, one James Kent, would have been senior if not for the middle name. Big Jim, the Tank. The retired old man who’d made his high school career as a jock, then in college as an engineer. The father of one son and one daughter. James took a breath and took in the simplicity of the house. Number 1297 on Dawson street, across the street the Monahan’s still lived. Probably with Danny’s Louisville slugger mounted on the wall with his medal for his oh-so heroic and tragically meaningless death in a country far away from anyone he loved.

 _Danny,_  he thought with a misty smile. He wondered if perhaps he should have gone with him into the military. They could have died together on the battlefield, together the way they had been all their lives only to be separated when they were shipped back to the States, but at least their memories would have gone on without the smudge they had in the hearts and minds of their families.

He smiled at the shutters that still hadn’t been painted, the way the porch creaked as he walked up the stairs and the near agitated sound of Big Jim’s voice after he knocked on the door and waited.

“We don’t want any!” He yelled and James smiled at that and knocked again.

He walked quickly, angrily, seventy-two years old but still without a cane, a spry old man, spry enough to have bounced his grandchildren on his knees and carry them if they were young enough.

Big Jim, the Tank.

James isn’t sure what to expect when the man opened the door, but he’s sure that somewhere in his heart of hearts, beneath the carbonated fizzle of his skin in sunlight, that expression is there. He lifts up his sunglasses to meet the man’s eyes.

“J-James, h-how are you--?”

“Hi, Dad,” he started with a tense smile. “Mind if I come in?”

His eyes narrowed, “For what?”

“To talk,” he said easily. “I can’t come in unless you invite me.”

“No son of mine would need to be invited into this house.”

James nodded, his eyes flickering to the room behind him where the living room had changed so drastically. They’d redone the wallpaper, redone the floors and there was no sign that James had ever survived beyond what was in people’s memories… The broken body in the middle of the street, the missing, sensitive pacifist who wouldn’t so much as swing his fist even if someone else was punching his lights out.

The man who’d been the bigger man of the two thought he was barely in his twenties and all of a hundred and sixty pounds soaking wet. He was still the bigger of the two though Big Jim was definitely still two hundred plus.

“That’s fair,” he said. “I’m not. I don’t have much to say, so it won’t be long.”

The man lifted his chin a bit as James pressed on, hands in his pockets.

“I’ve been through some things in the past few years. Something like an internment camp for vampires and a whole lot of other things. It’s given me sometime to think. When I was pretty sure I was going to die there was one more thing that I wanted to do.”

Big Jim squared his shoulders, for a moment James thought that perhaps his father thought he’d wanted to punch him. Maybe kill him in broad daylight. Interestingly, he didn’t step back into the house, out of reach. He didn’t even flinch. James however took a step back, getting further away from the man’s personal space, hoping that it would make the man relax a little.

“What was that?”

James looked down for just a moment and smiled before squaring his shoulders just like Big Jim, the way he always did before a bully punched him in the face, before he’d asked Danny if he could kiss him, before Danny told him he was going to war, before he’d left home the first time, before he’d walked across the street to meet what should have been his death.

 _We don’t run, James,_ his father had said as a child, rubbing his shoulders as he pressed half a bag of frozen vegetables to his swelling face. _Even when the other guy is bigger than you. You take the ass kicking--but you don’t ever run._

“I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry that I was such a disappointment to you,” he said. “That I’m sorry that I never quite got it right. Even dying I couldn’t get it right, but no matter how you feel about me, about what I am now, who I was then, who I still am, I have always been proud to be your son.”

Big Jim’s eyes widened.

“And I forgive you.”

James let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding before nodding at the suddenly light feeling he had. It’s almost as good as the last Tuinal he’d had with Danny just before he went to war.  It’s a kind of high that makes him remember the beach and its cool waves, so high on barbiturates and endorphins from the slow strokes of Danny behind him.

Feels almost like peace.

“I love you, Dad,” he said before stepping back. “Not too painful right?”

Big Jim didn’t say anything merely watching his son pull down the shades and seemingly drift and stumble away farther away from him and down the stairs.

“I’ll get out of here before Mom or the Monahans get back wouldn’t want a repeat of history. It would be far more messy than last time I think.”

It’s a wry and dark chuckle that escaped him as he turned and walked down the street, squaring his shoulders and forcing himself to put on foot in front of the other, and another until he was down the street, back at the wharf, beyond the town and heading back to the ghetto je ne sais quoi abode in Bon Temps, Louisiana. It would take him a few days walking leisurely, feeding sparingly--a New Blood here or there as he headed back. It was the middle of the day when he arrived opening the door and locking it behind him. He looked around for just a second and found himself with an inexplicable urge to party.  The sound of Woodstock and waves of consciousness drifting out to sea in his ears, in his blood. He’d only partially wished that Lafayette was there when the first cool, thick wet tear escaped because Lafayette would have been a hell of a better cure for this than funk.

*

When Lafayette arrived home, he wasn’t exactly sure what he’d arrived home to besides music he didn’t even know he had and the sight of a half naked, extremely sexy vampire dancing around in his house long before sundown. It had been about a week since Lafayette had woken up in the middle of the night to an empty bed, a note on his bedside table and a slightly sinking feeling in his stomach. They still hadn’t really talked about what had happened at the Life Affirming Party, where they stood now. Sure, they’d gone to Sookie’s holiday get-together but there was still that… distance, partially an unspoken necessary distance and partially a terror at the pit of his stomach.

He’d painted his nails and smoked everyday to still his trembling hands against the panic. Jesus hadn’t come back to speak with him, it seemed that his mediumship had either been revoked or just wasn’t working in the aftermath of all of that.

_Changing rockin’ rollin’ minds..._

Lafayette got out of the car to the sound of Wild Cherry coming from his in-home stereo. He unlocked the door and stepped in to just watch for just a minute. James had more rhythm than the average white person, he mostly chocked that up to him being a musician and from a time of much different pharmacy, but there was honestly something different about the way he moved that Lafayette couldn’t put his finger on. He wasn’t high, he knew that much, too steady on his feet, just seeming to enjoy moving his body around. Not at vampire speed, just a comfortable human sway to the funk coming from the stereo and no regard to Lafayette in the doorway.

“You should join me,” James said as Stevie Wonder’s “Superstition” began to play. “I couldn’t remember the last time funkin’ out was this fun.”

“Boyfriend,” Lafayette began. “Mind explaining the daytime shuffle? And where the hell you’ve been for the last week?”

James turned, lowering the volume on the music and regarding Lafayette. It’s then he realized that James hadn’t just been dancing around like a man high on acid, but crying streaks of red down his face as well.

“I,” he started. “I… went home.”

Lafayette swallowed, stepping closer to pull James into his arms, “I don’t think a daytime shuffle is going to help that.”

James laughed, “I feel like I’ve been an ocean for a week. Didn’t know sunlight was going to feel that good.”

Lafayette tugged him towards the couch, shaking in his cool skin as they sat together and Lafayette took his hand.

“Damn, boyfriend, never seen you this shaken up. What the fuck happened?”

“I went home,” was all he could say and Lafayette had a feeling that it would take a lot more than just a simple question to get answers out of him. “Saw my Dad-- middle of the day.”

“Yet another thing you’re going to have to explain, lover,” Lafayette said looking at him as James leaned onto his shoulder. “When’s the last time you ate?”

“Had a can a while ago.”

Lafayette let out a sigh, at the least he wasn’t starving himself, “Slept?”

“Can’t say.”

Lafayette nodded, “Alright love child, how about we get some sustenance in you and then get your sexy ass to bed, hm?”

James smiled, sliding a hand up the column of Lafayette’s neck, a thumb resting on his pulse, stroking gently.

“Are you offering?”

Lafayette scoffed, “Nah, lover, I was actually going to direct you to the steaks in my fridge.”

He let out a soft chuckle, “I’m not hungry… but I’ll take the rest.”

There’s a skip of Lafayette’s heart that makes James feel a little devious. He’s sure it’s the soda fizz in his blood, the pulse of music in his blood and this oppressing freedom he’s been feeling since walking back, so he stands and he takes Lafayette’s hands to lead him back through the hallway towards Lafayette’s bedroom.

“Are you in for the night?”

“Something like that,” Lafayette said following him. “What’cha you got on your mind?”

“That I’m an asshole,” he said. “And while I don’t believe in violence, I’ve been committing it in the worst way against you.”

Lafayette titled his head, topped with its usual ankara, today in a brilliant and shimmering yellow that matched the brightness of his nails.

“You been sneaking a taste while I’ve been sleeping?”

He chuckled, “No, just pretending that we could get on the way we have been.”

Lafayette’s heart skipped again and he could feel it in his pulse as he turned them so Lafayette was up against the door to his bedroom.

“J’?”

“Any chance I could apologize hard enough for being a total _ass_?”

Lafayette thought about it for just a moment. It wasn’t often that he was pinned against his own bedroom door, wasn’t often that he was in such close proximity to anyone he could really have a connection with… not sense Jesus anyway.

“Depends,” Lafayette said. “What’d you have in mind?”

It’s the smirk on James’ face that makes Lafayette’s stomach flip. He’s pretty sure he’s never seen that look on his face before… or really on anyone’s face directed at him. It’s the kind of look that could mean trouble or the kind of wave that you can’t synthesize in the lab.

“Are you off tomorrow?”

“Uh, yeah.”

It’s the gleam of James’s teeth in the dark that does it. His jeans are suddenly unbearably tight and while the last time it had been James bent over and gasping, he’s pretty sure that James’s plans for him included that plus a few extras that would make Lafayette beyond grateful that he wouldn’t be called in for work in the morning.

“Good,” he said softly, reaching around Lafayette’s hip to grab for the doorknob, pressing his body up against Lafayette’s. It’s the first time that he realized that James was in fact taller than him, not by much, but enough that it was noticeable.

“I’m going to feed on you Lafayette, slow, deliberate tiny things while I take you apart-- open you up and slide in and when you’re too tired to hold yourself up. I’m going to put you on your back and ride you straight out of this plane of existence.”

Lafayette blinked, “Well damn.”

James smirked, “Promise it’ll be better than Tuinal.”

“Well then, take me on a ride then.”

James turned the knob and walked, hands on Lafayette’s hip, slow drags of his mouth against Lafayette’s, his cheek and neck like whispers of moonlight on his skin. The first prick of fangs feels like a gentle nip, one that sends a shock of pleasure through him in the midst of all the gentle pleasure. James’s hands skim over Lafayette’s shoulders, sliding his jacket down his arms, undoing the buttons of his shirt and sliding it off. Lafayette trembles a bit as James dragged the tip of his fingers up the center of Lafayette’s chest, kissing gently, slowly as he undid the button on the man’s pants.

Lafayette had had vampire and human lovers before, but he can’t remember any of them taking their time like this. Or perhap because he knew how fast James could move it seemed as though he was taking his time.  Usually he would be impatient, but there’s something about the way James touches him, like every point of contact is a spot of sunlight and blood, gold and ecstasy that’s meant to be savored that he can’t do anything but squirm as James’s lips go lower, opening tiny spots of blood on his dark skin to suck at gently, careful not to hurt more than is pleasurable until Lafayette is completely naked save the light makeup he wore and that guarded look on his face. James only smiles careful to nip his tongue for just a second before kissing Lafayette. His body arched up as James slid his tongue towards the back of his throat. The taste of tequila and lime, his blood, sugar and Lafayette making his head spin. But it’s the sound that Lafayette makes that nearly sends him over the edge.

Partially, the addition of his blood into the kiss, partially the sheer carnality of the act given that it had been a week since he’d last seen James and too long since that interruption at Sookie’s house party. He makes these quiet little moans and choked sounds as James does exactly as he promised, opening tiny cuts and lapping at them until they stop bleeding, healing them in turn as he slid his hands over Lafayette’s skin. So warm, so very alive and  thriving, like his heart and spirit like soda fizz and sunlight.

When it hits the back of his throat, Lafayette cries out, grasping desperately at James’s hair and pleading. For more, for less, for something that isn’t this slow torture while James spreads his legs and manages to find a whole new way to make Lafayette squirm beneath him.

He never realized how soft James’ hands were, though most vampires had soft hands. It’s more than just the touch, but how gentle he is stroking Lafayette and biting into his neck. It’s heady enough to catch Lafayette off guard. It makes him scramble for purchase on an ever moving floor. James kept tugging at the rug beneath his feet, sure to keep him unbalanced and falling over himself, tumbling as he slid into him so gently that Lafayette could only close his eyes and hold on for dear life.

He’d had sex with plenty of people, vampire and human alike, but never like this. So very full, so very tender, hands locked together as James stroked into him, human in his tenderness yet vampire in his force, making Lafayette check on his breath.

He pulled him up to sit in his lap, his full weight forcing James up into him and hiding his face into the crook of James’s neck, guiding his hips , driving James deeper and breaking Lafayette apart. His tongue and teeth sucking and kissing the words and pleas for mercy from Lafayette’s mouth until the man shook, slumping against James.

As promised, James pulled free of Lafayette and lay him down before straddling his hips. Lafayette hissed at the tightness and warmth as James sank down, his hands on Lafayette’s chest. His eyes fluttered and the last sight he had was of James looking at him so tenderly, mouth of open in pleasure, eyes fluttering as he came, still riding him hard and deep.

When he woke up, James was curled up beside him, an arm around his waist, lips pressed to his shoulder, still as the dead, but warm against him, beneath the sheets. His body ached but he felt a tingling feeling down to his toes.

“He’s cute.”

Lafayette choked on a breath seeing Jesus sitting on the bed looking at the two of them. He smiled at him.

“Glad you found some peace, Lafayette,” Jesus said, kneeling as Lafayette stared at him. “Don’t be afraid to let him in, yeah? I know you.”

Lafayette swallowed but before he could say anything, Jesus pressed the ghost of his fingertips to Lafayette’s mouth.

“Shh,” Jesus said. “Sleep, you’ll need it.”

Lafayette lay down, staring at Jesus smiling at him, standing. In his jeans and t-shirt, barefoot and comfortable.

“I love you, La-La.”

His mouth quirked, “I’m sorry.”

Jesus snorted, “I’m not.”

He vanished then as James began to stir.

“Lafayette?” James asked, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “Are you alright?”

Lafayette nodded, “I think. We should talk.”

James pulled Lafayette closer to him, “Okay.”

Lafayette let out a breath, licked his lips, and told him about Jesus. The man he’d loved and killed because of a power he didn’t fully understand, nor was he fully rid of. The guilt and sleepless nights, waking up screaming-- the voices and his fears. James laced his fingers in Lafayette’s and listened to each syllable, the shuddering of Lafayette’s body, the rise and fall of his heartbeat until Lafayette fell silent against him, lost to the trembling terror of what James would say now.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he said gently and Lafayette said nothing as James pulled him close, seeming so warm though he was completely silent. There was no beating heart to listen to, no breathing either, but James’s presence and warmth there.


End file.
